Pumped Up Kicks
by Kateniss
Summary: All Jax Teller wanted was to let loose at the clubhouse, have a few drinks, a few smokes, and spend some time alone with his girl. Stumbling upon a drunken and mortified Isabelle Martin was not exactly his idea of a good time. One-shot prequel #2 to the "Carry Your Heart" trilogy.


The clubhouse was especially packed tonight, even for a Friday night. While all the usual suspects had taken their designated places, there seemed to more of an overflow of guests than usual. Not that it mattered much to Jax...as long as the throngs of people kept their distance from his tight group near the pool table, he'd be just fine.

Tonight, he just wanted to let loose. To exhale. Graduation was only a week away and even though Tara had promised him she'd enrolled in the community college ten minutes away, he knew better than to throw all his eggs in one basket too soon. There was still a chance she could change her mind and dump him right on his ass. There was still a chance she could renege on her recent admission that she wanted to stay in Charming with him. As long as she still had his crow, he felt like he had least had a fighting chance of keeping his life exactly the way he wanted it.

While nothing in their immediate history told him to be wary, it was probably just old fashioned paranoia that kept him from completely believing her. At some point, he was going to have to reconcile one way or another that Tara really wasn't leaving...and that he wouldn't be left alone, deserted, and miserable in Charming.

Jesus Christ, monogamy had turned him into a complete pussy. He needed a shot of Jack. Immediately.

He gestured with his head towards his empty shot glass and it was filled promptly. That was one of the benefits to patching in soon-people around here were actually starting to treat him with a little more respect. And that made a surge of pride well up in his chest just at the thought. It had been a hard-won battle, but he'd still won nonetheless.

Just as he was bringing the shot of Jack to his lips, some asshole bumped into him from behind. Some of the liquid in his shot glass sloshed at his feet, narrowly missing his brand new Nikes.

"Jesus Christ!" Jax hollered back at the guy, whose face he didn't recognize, and shoved him back in the direction the drunken bastard came from. "Watch where you're goin'!"

"Oh come on!" Opie yelled at him across Donna's head. "Don't tell me he almost spilled on your new shoes..."

"Hey," Jax jabbed a finger in his best friend's direction. "These are fuckin' awesome kicks and you know it."

"Jeez, Jax," Donna laughed, looking up at him with an amused expression. "I didn't realize you were such a shoe whore."

"Um, excuse me, Don," Tara cut in lightly as she leaned around Jax to see her best friend a little better. "I think he prefers the term, 'shoe slut'."

"You guys are just jealous," Jax shrugged, wrapping his free arm around Tara's shoulders as he spoke and pointed down at his Nikes. "You know you want these, too, Ope. You're just pissed I saw them first."

Opie just held his hands up in surrender and shook his head, casting one sneaky glance down at Jax's new Air Jordans before reverting his eyes back up to the bar. They really were awesome kicks, too. Black with a red striped sole, the new object of his obsession was speckled with red and green graffiti-like shapes all throughout the shoe, with the classic Air Jordan symbol nestled carefully on the tongue. The moment he'd seen them, he'd known he had to have them.

"Oh yes," he'd whispered to them in the store, ignoring Tara's snicker next to him. "You will be mine."

"Alright, alright," Donna told them and promptly brought him back to the present. "Enough talk about men and their shoes. This is getting weird."

"Amen to that, Don," Tara echoed and they clinked their glasses together for good measure.

Jax shook his head and when yet another clubhouse patron bumped into him, he was starting to feel more than a little claustrophobic. Jesus, was it getting hot in here, too? Sweat was starting to pool underneath his armpits and he knew he needed to get some air fast before he sweat through his entire flannel. That would not bode well for later tonight, when he wanted to be tangled up in his sheets with Tara in his dorm. Of course...she'd probably make them move to the floor at some point so no one could hear them. He'd told her time and time again that nobody gave a shit around here about that. If people could get away with having sex in the booths, and against the pool table, right out in the open, then he was pretty sure they could get away with sneaking back into his dorm to make all the noise they wanted.

For as much as he loved Tara, she could really be a prude sometimes. When they'd first starting dating, he had been under the impression that he was getting one thing, and as it turned out, he'd gotten something else entirely. While Tara wanted the outside world to see a tough, confident biker's old lady, he had to admit that wasn't even close to what she was really like behind closed doors.

And while he'd rather watch his balls shrivel and fall off than admit it out loud, he knew, deep down, that there was a part of him that was deeply disappointed about that. Even though it made him feel like a complete asshole, he just couldn't help it. She was almost...timid at times and seemed a little uncomfortable and cold with some of the things they did. But he'd never pressured her into doing anything...she'd always just offered up all the head and hand jobs a guy could ask for without any nudging on his part. Was it wrong for him to take what his old lady of over a year was offering to him? He'd never want her to feel like she had to...but sometimes, he wondered if she really enjoyed any of it.

Jesus, he really was turning into a melodramatic pussy.

On that note, he excused himself from the stuffy, stifling clubhouse to get some damn air. He needed to breathe and he couldn't do it in here anymore. This was starting to get ridiculous. After pushing his way through the doors, his senses were rewarded with warm, breezy, and most importantly, fresh California night air.

Finally. Some room to breathe and some room to think. There were just too many people in the clubhouse tonight for his liking. Sure, it was fun when it was crowded, but it was only fun when that crowd was one he knew. It was fucking amateur night at the clubhouse and that just made him want to get the hell out of there.

He walked out onto the grass and quickly lit a cigarette, taking a heavy pull to get some nicotine coursing through him. At least he felt a little calmer now and sucked in a deep breath to prove it to himself. Just as his head was beginning to clear, a sniffle and some faint shuffling caught his attention. Frowning at the noise, he turned his head to find a shadow crouched down around the left corner of the clubhouse.

Figuring it was some drunken hangaround or wannabe prospect, he was just about to leave the idiot to his own devices when a flash of shimmering white reflected in the moonlight. Dudes didn't wear shit like that. He froze in the grass, the cigarette still dangling from his lips. There was a chick over there. And she was drunk as hell.

Immediately taking another deep pull from his nearly-forgotten cigarette to buy him a little more time, he shifted from one side to the other indecisively. This was not what he'd wanted to do tonight. Damn, this is what he got for being anti-social. So, with a deep sigh at his own stupidity, he flicked the spent bud to the cement a few feet away and started towards the side of the clubhouse.

As he took a few cautious steps in the slick grass, the shadowy figure jumped, trying and failing to scramble to her feet. He squinted, despite the darkness, to see the girl more clearly and when the moon cast enough light over her face, his eyes just about popped out of their sockets. Holy mother of fucking shit. Isabelle Martin was crouched a mere three feet away from him on her hands and knees.

His eyes immediately gravitated down to the ample cleavage her shimmery white top was offering up to him and he almost groaned at the sight. Oh God. This was too good. This was fucking fantastic. He watched, with almost evil glee, as Little Miss Perfect grimaced and moaned in obvious pain. Amatuer night indeed.

She glanced up at him and then squeezed her eyes shut.

"Great, just great," she muttered and then she raised a fist into the air. "Congratulations, universe...you win!"

Her eyes retreated to his shoes and he smirked down at her...maybe he'd made the right decision in coming out here after all. He wouldn't have missed this sight for all the Jack and weed in the world.

"Hey there, princess," he grinned down at her, liking this new vantage point with every moment that ticked by and shoved his hands in his front pockets. "Rough night?"

"Don't call me that, Jax," Isabelle waved him off miserably and squeezed her eyes shut as she clutched her stomach. "Go away, go away...please go away."

"Fat chance in hell, Iz," he smirked down at her, biting his lip to mask just a little of his shit-eating grin. "I'd ask ya what you're doin' out here, but I think it's pretty obvious, ya know?"

"Shut up...shut up," she moaned again.

"Aw, come on, Iz," he chuckled, his lips twisting up at the sides. "You know you're happy to see me."

"You are the absolute _last_ person I wanna see right now, trust me."

It wasn't lost on him that she called him out on just about every nickname he'd ever attempted to call her. She sure hadn't wasted any time, even as drunk as she was, to pounce on his mocking use of 'princess', but he could call her 'Iz' as much as he wanted. Sure, it'd earned him the stink-eye on more than a few occasions, but she'd never asked him not to call her that...not that he'd probably listen anyways.

"Oh God...someone hates me...why is this happening?" She was clutching her face now with one hand. "Go away, go away...please God, go away."

She shook her head as if to attempt to wipe away what was happening right now and when she dared a glance back up at him, she just squeezed her eyes shut again.

"So...what are you doin' out here then?"

"It was just so hot in there...I couldn't breathe. And I thought I was gonna throw up..."

His eyes widened and instinctively jumped back a few feet to put some space in between them, his eyes darting around the grass to look the tell-tale signs that she'd already emptied her stomach. If there was one thing he wasn't prepared to handle tonight, other than seeing Charming's resident good girl drunk off her ass...it was puke.

"Don't worry," she eyed him warily and he was now acutely aware that she was still on her hands and knees just a few feet away from where he stood. "I didn't throw up; at least not yet...I don't feel so good. You know what they say...one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor...or I think it was more like one tequila, floor, for me."

He chuckled, impressed that she had enough control to even attempt a joke.

There was no telling how long it was going to take him to scrub this image clean from his mind. The real problem was that he didn't really want to...from the cleavage, to her position on the grass, to the way the moonlight shimmered in her hair and fell into her face...Jesus, what was wrong with him? This wasn't normal. Nothing about this situation was normal.

In an effort to solve some of his current problems, he crouched down to her level and gripped her shoulders.

"Come on, Iz," he exhaled tiredly. "Let's get you on your feet."

She frowned up at him and he could practically see the wheels in her head turning. She was probably wondering why he was even attempting to be nice to her, given her current predicament, and for the life of him, he didn't really know why he was still standing here. He should've cut and run after snickering at her drunken humiliation and went back inside the clubhouse to his friends...and his old lady.

"Come on," he said again, adding a little more force this time and held a hand out to her.

She eyed him carefully, like she was trying to figure out if he was going to let her fall on her face the second she reached her hand out to him. He supposed that was only fair, given their history, or rather, his tendency to make fun of her at every opportunity. This was as golden an opportunity as any, but, for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to leave her out here by herself. It just didn't seem right...and it wasn't often that he tended to do the right thing. This was weird.

After a few moments of contemplation, she gingerly extended her hand and slid her tiny, soft hand into his rough one. He carefully pulled her to her feet, gripping both of her hands now, and when she was safely upright, they stared blankly at each other for one, long, frozen moment. It was like she was seeing right through him-even though she was wasted-and he suddenly felt incredibly small underneath the weight of her deep, sapphire eyes.

And then, like something had suddenly crawled inside her body and possessed it, she lurched forward and proceeded to empty her stomach. All over his new fucking shoes.

He blinked down at the mess on his feet in shock and barely noticed that she seemed frozen in front of him, their hands still impossibly intertwined. Then her hand jerked free from his to cover her mouth in horror. Still...he couldn't move. He couldn't even fucking breathe. That did not just happen right now. He'd literally just bought these shoes today. They were practically right out of the box and this was the first time he'd actually worn them. No way. No fucking way they were ruined already. Because of her. Because of some drunk chick who couldn't take care of her shit.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he swore hotly, staring furiously at the chunks of food and recycled tequila now covering his second most prized possession.

"Oh my God," she whispered weakly. "I'm so sorry, Jax...I'm so sorry..."

Just as he was rearing up to lay the hell into her, her eyes glazed over and then her head jerked in between her knees as the rest of her stomach emptied itself onto the grass. With less than a split second to make his decision, he was reaching out to help her before he even really knew what he was doing. His hands found their way to her hair and he quickly brushed it out of the way, so it rested safely away from the projectile. Biting his lip, he rubbed her back a little as she heaved violently and winced at the strangled sounds coming from her throat.

Maybe it was just the inner gentleman in him coming out, but he didn't have the heart to walk away from her. Not after she ruined his brand new, beautiful shoes and not after she continued to vomit all over the clubhouse's small lawn. Maybe it was the humiliation in her eyes. Maybe it was the fact that leaving a girl out here alone in the middle of the night wasn't such a great idea. Or maybe it was just because he wanted a few more moments with her...what the hell was wrong with him?

"I'm so sorry, Jax," she whispered again hoarsely. "Your shoes..."

She trailed off, her mortified eyes glued to the mess she'd made on his feet and he couldn't bring himself to follow her gaze. Every time he looked down, he just wanted to punch something and that wouldn't really help either of them right now.

"Who you here with, Iz?"

"Becca," she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut again, prompting him to snake an arm around her shoulders for support.

She eyed him warily at his closeness and he couldn't get a good read on her expression. It didn't really matter anyways...he just needed to get her into the clubhouse, back with whoever she came here with, and safely on her way home. Even that was pushing it, but he didn't have the energy to think about anything beyond the matter at hand.

"Alright," he nodded to her. "Let's get you inside, so we can find Becca and get you ladies home."

She started to follow his lead and then stopped abruptly, gazing up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Why...why are you doing this, Jax? I mean, you don't have to, you know. I can get inside..."

Even as she spoke, she teetered unsteadily on her feet and he had to gingerly place both hands around her waist to keep her on her feet.

"Nevermind," she murmured almost sleepily. "I just wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah, I got that," he muttered under his breath.

By the time he kicked off his ruined shoes and ushered her through the clubhouse to find Becca-who just as wasted, if not more so-and waited while Isabelle called that douchebag boyfriend of hers, he just about done with the nice guy act. Shit, there was only so much of this he could take in one night. Thankfully, Opie had fallen into place beside him, dutifully shouldering some of this shit responsibility while they waited with both girls outside the clubhouse for their ride.

And when that asshole Davis pulled up in his stupid-ass truck to pick them up, he knew he should've felt relief that she was gone and out of his hair. That he could enjoy the rest of his night now. But it never came. Those few moments they'd spent in the dark had completely fucked with his head. And even though he'd never admit it out loud, he had a sudden urge to leap onto his bike, chase that truck down, yank her out of it, and haul her ass back to the clubhouse, even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming. Wow. There was something seriously wrong with him.

_Congratulations, universe_, he thought bitterly. _You win_.

* * *

The morning light seeped through the cracks in her blinds and Isabelle moaned in agony, rolling over onto her side so she could bury her face in her pillow. While that effort might have drowned out the light, it did not, by any means, relieve the pounding in her head. Oh God...why did she take those shots last night? She'd never done tequila shots before and the absolute last place to start was at Samcro's clubhouse. What was she thinking in letting Becca talk her into that? So stupid...

Sure, she'd needed a little liquid courage to even stay there for longer than a minute, but that didn't excuse away the shots she'd taken after that. The whole night had just been a bad idea. One horrible idea. It had easily been the worst night of her life. Not to mention the fact that Brandon had been pissed beyond belief that she'd even been at the clubhouse last night in the first place.

As all the pieces of the previous night slid into place, she suddenly shot straight up in bed. Oh God, no...it didn't happen. It was just a bad dream. A terrible, horrible nightmare. But there was no amount of lying to herself that could made the reality go away. It had happened. She'd thrown up on Jax Teller. At the clubhouse. After she'd gotten completely wasted and fled the clubhouse for fear of throwing up _inside_ the clubhouse. Mortification, embarrassment, and humiliation didn't even begin to cover the depths of what she was feeling right now.

He would never let her live this one down. It didn't matter that graduation was only a week away...he'd use any and every opportunity to make her life miserable from now until then and maybe even after that, too. She wanted to crawl into a hole and just die. Or maybe jump off a cliff. Could she skip school for the next week and still be able to graduate? That would show him...wouldn't it?

With no real, plausible option available to her, she flung her face into her pillow and screamed. She was still screaming when a knock sounded from the other side of her door.

"Isabelle?" her mom called out from behind the door. "You up, yet? Wanna grab some lunch before we go to the store?"

Oh great. One more thing she'd completely forgotten about. She moaned into her pillow one more time before lifting her head and groaning back hoarsely: "Okay, Mom."

"Sounds good, sweetie. You gonna be ready to leave soon, then?"

All Isabelle could do was just groan into her pillow. Fuck my life, she thought bitterly.

About forty-five minutes later, Isabelle and her mother were sitting outside under the shade of an umbrella at Charming's sole cafe. The waitress had just dropped of their coffee and she had to admit, the caffeine was already doing wonders for her hangover. Showering had helped and a fresh change of clothes had helped too. The warm sun definitely helped, especially as it absorbed into her skin, but that tingling, swirling feeling in her stomach hadn't yet dissipated.

"So," her mom started casually. "How was the clubhouse last night?"

Isabelle just about spit her coffee out all over the table.

"Wha...what?" she sputtered in disbelief.

Her mom eyed her warily and her lips twitched. "Oh come on, Isabelle. You really think I didn't know? You and Becca didn't do a very good job of hiding it last night."

"Crap," Isabelle muttered and winced into her coffee.

"Well," her mom continued. "All I can say is, you're lucky your father wasn't home last night."

That was the understatement of the year. If her dad had caught wind of their plans last night, he wouldn't have allowed her to the leave the house for the rest of her life.

"So..."

Isabelle sighed and regarded her mother's watchful, omnipotent eyes. Her dad liked to say her mom's beauty was like a fine wine and it was completely true. At 43, faint lines were starting to show on her face and the weariness one evolved into with age was finally making an appearance. Her honey-highlighted waves shone bright, but with a few specks of grey. The crow's feet and laugh lines were a little more pronounced now, but her skin was still as luminous as ever. But she still glowed with youthful radiance and an ever abundant desire to embrace every day to the fullest.

Katherine Martin had a knack for knowing just about everything there was to know about a person just by looking at them. Which was why, of course, she'd seen the need to torture her hung-over teenage daughter by waking her up way too early for a Saturday morning. Besides, Isabelle knew her mom was very aware, when she'd knocked on her door this morning, that she was hung-over. All the better to torture her with.

"I don't really wanna talk about it," Isabelle answered finally and bit her lip at the defiance that crossed her mother's beautiful face. That was not a good sign. There was no way her mom was letting her off the hook, even if she did change the subject.

"Okay, okay," she held her hands up in the air. "Fine. Don't tell me how the clubhouse was last night."

Isabelle's eyes narrowed suspiciously and chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "Wait a minute...why does it seem like you're okay with this?"

"I never said I was," her mom just shrugged. "Just curious."

"Right."

"Come on," her mom laughed. "Don't give me that...maybe I'm just happy to see you let loose a little."

Isabelle's eyebrows shot up into her forehead and for a moment, she almost didn't believe what she was hearing. While she was well aware her mother and father were worlds apart in their parenting styles, this was more than a little out of character even for her mom. It wasn't like her mom hadn't lived in Charming her entire life...and she, just like everyone else in town, was very familiar with Samcro's reputation. She couldn't imagine a scenario where her mom-or any normal mother, for that matter-would be supportive about their teenage daughter going to the debauchery-laden drunkfest that Isabelle had seen firsthand at the clubhouse last night. While she'd kept her eyes strictly to what was happening no less than three feet in front of her, she was positive there was a lot more happening in the clubhouse than just drinking.

"Don't look at me like that, Isabelle," her mom playfully swatted at her as she spoke. "You can't blame me for wanting to know what it's like in there anyways...was it fun, though?"

Well, it was safe to say Katherine Martin wouldn't be winning any Mother of the Year awards with an attitude like that.

"No," Isabelle shot back hotly. "It was not. I was miserable there."

Her mom's face softened almost immediately and then her head tilted to the side in a tender, motherly gesture of genuine concern.

"Oh sweetie," she exhaled quietly. "I'm sorry you didn't have a good time last night. You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"I'm sorry...I'd just like to see you actually experiencing things for once, Isabelle, and not always just letting other people have all the fun for you. I know you've decided on Stanford, and I know we've discussed this before, but you can always change your mind, you know."

Isabelle blew out a shaky breath. Yes, they'd been over this before, but she'd never seen her dad so proud when she'd opened the acceptance letter from Stanford. There were so few opportunities she had to actually get that reaction from him that there was no way she could just throw it away. Besides, there was nothing wrong with being a lawyer. Her dad was one. Her grandpa had been one. It was basically a family tradition to go to Stanford and become a lawyer. What was so bad about that?

Her mom sighed, like she'd heard her thoughts, and took another sip of her coffee. They sat there in silence for a few moments and Isabelle was grateful when the waitress finally brought out their food. At least now, they'd have something else to distract them for awhile and her mom could forget about her personal life for about ten minutes. That peace and silence lasted for all of two minutes when the tell-tale roar of a motorcycle echoed from down the street.

Isabelle's eyes widened in shock. Oh God, it was headed straight for them. The universe wouldn't hate on her that much that it would send he-who-shall-not-be-named to witness her humiliation...again. While whoever was riding the motorcycle up to a parking spot right in front of the cafe was certainly affiliated with Samcro, it didn't necessarily mean that the universe would be that cruel.

But when she timidly turned her head to hope her worst nightmare wasn't currently coming true, she slid down a little further in her chair at the sight of Jax Teller swinging his leg over the side of his bike with Tara Knowles right behind him as she pulled off her helmet.

Isabelle immediately swung her head back to face her mom and was met with more humiliation. Her mom was regarding her with careful, ever-watchful eyes and she suddenly wished that her mom wasn't so damn perceptive all the time. She seemed to know everything...it just wasn't fair.

The universe was a spiteful bitch.

And just when she thought it couldn't get any worse...

"Oh hi there, Jax!" her mom called out and waved happily.

"Mom!" Isabelle hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just saying hi," Katherine waved a hand dismissively to her. "And watch that mouth, Isabelle."

Isabelle just groaned in response and slid further down in her chair. The mounting panic and mortification couldn't be ignored now...because Jax was headed right towards their table with a slow, cocky grin tugging up the left side of his face as he steered Tara behind him.

"Hey, Mrs. Martin. Looks like you two ladies had the same idea we did. How's it goin', Iz?" He asked brightly, grinning down at them as Tara tucked herself underneath his arm.

Isabelle just smiled back weakly and hoped the chair would swallow her whole. It wasn't lost on her that Tara looked extremely uncomfortable to be standing directly in front of their table like that. Well, at least she wasn't the only way hating every second of this.

Thankfully, Jax turned his attention back to her mom. "So, how are you, Mrs. Martin? Haven't seen you in awhile."

"I'm well, Jax; thank you."

Isabelle watched in horror as her mom slid a cigarette out of the case in her purse and brought to her lips. It was like this was all happening in slow motion and Jax didn't hesitate to dig a lighter from his pocket. Isabelle squirmed in her seat as he flicked the lighter and held out the open flame so her mom could lean in and light up her cigarette.

"Thanks, Jax; that was awfully sweet of you," Katherine rested her chin on her free hand as she spoke and Isabelle wanted to smack her face into the table. "How's your mom doing? I've been meaning to give her a call about the fundraiser this summer, but haven't gotten around to it yet."

Jesus Christ, they were sitting here chatting like they were old friends. What the hell was going on? Was the entire world against her today? Yes, yes it was. Isabelle could only watch the exchange completely frozen in place, wishing she'd just stayed in bed this morning. Maybe if the sidewalk could just open up and swallow her whole, maybe then she'd be finally be put out of her misery. And before she could stop herself, her eyes traveled down to Jax's feet and involuntarily winced.

"She's good," Jax just nodded to her mom good-naturedly, but not before shifting his eyes dangerously on Isabelle. It only lasted a second and for a moment, she could've sworn that he winked at her...right in front of her mom and his _girlfriend_, no less. God, he really had no shame.

Her mom's eyes slid over to her immediately after the moment passed and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips. Then the warm, friendly smile returned and her mom was grinning back up at Jax, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun with one hand, and she blew out a puff of smoke in the opposite direction.

"Well, tell your mom I said hello, okay?"

"Will do, Mrs. Martin." Jax grinned back at her.

"You two enjoy your lunch. It was nice to see you!"

Jax waved again as they retreated towards the cafe's main entrance and Tara awkwardly waved too, a forced, albeit grim expression pressed to her lips. When her mom turned back to face her, it took all of her resolve not to lean forward and strangle her mother.

"What?" Katherine asked innocently.

"Don't what me, you know what." Isabelle shot back.

"I was just being friendly, Isabelle. I guess I didn't realize it would make you uncomfortable."

Isabelle laughed bitterly and just shook her head. "Sure you didn't, Mom."

"So...Iz, huh? What's that about anyways?"

Isabelle just sighed deeply, not wanting to get into that today too. "It's nothing. No big deal."

"Well," she exhaled. "I'm just saying...if I were 17 again..."

"Nope," Isabelle shook her head and held up a hand. "Stop right there. I don't wanna hear it."

Her mom just lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. "He's awfully cute, don't you think?" She didn't even give her a chance to answer. "Besides, it's a shame some people seem to think he's nothing but bad news. It's like all they can see is that cut...and that's not really fair to him."

Isabelle eyed her mom warily and it didn't take a genius to get the hint. "Why are we talking about this, Mom?"

Instead of simply side-stepping her question, she went all out and cocked an eyebrow at her. "So what happened at the clubhouse last night, huh?"

Knowing her mom well enough to know that there was no way they'd be able to move on until she fessed up, Isabelle knew she had no other choice but to divulge the dirty details of the most humiliating moment of her entire life. At least it looked like she wasn't going to land herself in too much trouble by telling her mom what happened. Now, if her dad found out, that'd be a different story entirely.

So, with a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes for a brief moment and then opened them again to find her mom waiting expectantly.

It all came out in one big rush.

"Ipukedonhisshoes."

Katherine frowned and leaned forward slightly. "What? Say that again, sweetie. A little slower this time..."

Isabelle blew out another breath and winced as she spoke. "I puked on his shoes."

Her mom's blue eyes widened the size of saucers and then her shoulders started shaking. A hand shot up to cover her mouth and soon, her mom was wiping tears from her eyes.

"Nice, Mom," she shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest. "Real nice."

"What?" Katherine laughed. "I can't help it...how did that happen?"

"Let's just say I had a little too much...juice..."

She bit her lip and nodded knowingly. "Right."

"And I wasn't feeling so hot and went outside. He came outside a few minutes later, found me, and I puked on his shoes. Then he took me back inside to find Becca. That's it."

Her mom just chewed on the side of her cheek in thought, but that didn't do anything to mask the grin she was fighting. "Oh honey...it's not that bad. You make it seem like it was a disaster, but that's not even close to a disaster, Isabelle. It's actually kinda sweet, don't you think?"

Isabelle's eyes just about bugged out of her face. "Sweet? What are you talking about? It's embarrassing and mortifying and humiliating and I wanted to die. I still want to die. Those were really nice shoes too..."

"Oh come on," she batted a hand out to her. "Stop being so melodramatic. I think it's nice he took care of you like that."

"Mom," Isabelle started with barely concealed warning.

"He didn't have to do that, you know. He could've just left you out there by yourself...I'm glad he didn't."

"Well, it wasn't like that..." Isabelle trailed off mid-sentence as the reality hit her like a ton of bricks.

Wait...he had sort of taken care of her last night. She hadn't even bothered to tell her mom the rest of it, that Jax had waited patiently with her while she called Brandon, and then waited patiently with her again outside the clubhouse until Brandon pulled into the parking lot to take her home. She knew she'd never understand why he did it and frankly, she wasn't so sure she ever wanted to anyways.

"Well," Katherine was saying now. "I'm not advocating that you go out and get drunk every night. There is a time and place for that and that time is college. But I'm glad you finally decided to let loose for once, sweetie, because I know that's not something you like to do, and I'm glad he was there to watch out for you. Just proves my theory that, deep down, he's one of the good ones, too."

"Are you sure you haven't been drinking, too, Mom?"

"What?" she just shrugged.

"Mom," Isabelle shot back pointedly. "I've gone to school with him for...what..twelve years now? And I've had the misfortune of having to sit next him all semester in American Lit. class and I haven't seen much that would suggest he's 'one of the good ones'. He's a jerk."

"I'm sure he's not so bad once you actually get to know him."

"Right, because you know him sooo well."

"Don't be a snot," Katherine chided, shaking a pointed finger at her. "And it's not like you're exactly an expert on the subject either. You can't tell me you've ever actually sat down and tried to have a real conversation with him...so, you wouldn't know, would you?"

"What...are you telling me you want me to date Jax Teller?" Isabelle whispered through clenched teeth, looking around nervously to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their current topic of conversation.

"I wouldn't be opposed to the idea," she just shrugged.

"You're kidding, right? He has a girlfriend and he's a criminal...he's been arrested, Mom."

"So he got drunk once and ran around town like an idiot with Harry. So what? That's just harmless fun. And girlfriends come and go anyways. Besides, that one doesn't seem like she's going to stick around for too long."

"Okay, well, he's part of a gang. Or at least he will be."

"Okay, okay," Katherine conceded with a wave of her hands. "All I'm saying is a boy like that-who looks at you the way he just looked at you before-will grow up into a man who'll protect you until the day he dies with every ferocious bone in his hot manly body. Sure, what he does is dangerous but that kind of love, that dangerous kind, will eat you alive if you let it...but I think it would also be worth it."

Isabelle gaped at her mother like she'd just sprouted a second head. "What are you talking about, Mom?"

"I'm just saying I want you to be happy, honey. And if you end up with a man like Jax, I think you'd be doing just fine. There's good in him, Isabelle...even if you can't see it. It's there...if he's anything like his father, and I suspect he is, there's just a good man in there waiting to break out."

"I think you've lost it."

And really, this was only making her already pounding head throb that much worse.

Her mom just watched her carefully and then, something terrifying flashed in her blue eyes. It was like she'd come to a sudden conclusion and there was no talking her out of it. Isabelle had no interest in finding out what that sudden conclusion was.

"I think," Katherine called out softly from across the table. "That if you were to ever give him the opportunity, he'd probably shock the hell out of you."

"Watch that mouth," Isabelle grumbled from her chair and couldn't shake the sour mood that had crept down her spine.

It didn't matter that her mom had silently, thankfully, gone back to finishing her long-forgotten sandwich. The conversation had somehow taken a turn she couldn't have predicted and certainly didn't like. Nothing about this really made sense to her and she really didn't appreciate the way her mom kept sneaking those knowing glances as she chomped away at her sandwich. Graduation was in a week and then she'd be off to Stanford to start on her pre-determined pre-law degree. That was the plan and she was sticking to it. She'd probably never see Jax again after graduation anyways. Her mom didn't know what she was talking about.

Because there was no way, under any circumstances, that Isabelle could imagine a situation where she'd be in close enough proximity to Jax Teller to ever give him that opportunity.

* * *

**A/N-I hoped you guys enjoyed reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it. This will probably be the last prequel one-shot of when Jax and Isabelle were in high school, unless there's a lot of demand for another one. I'm really pumped to keep going with "Carry You With Me", but I have to say that the one I'm most excited for is the last story in the trilogy. It's gonna be epic! At least I think it is, haha. **

**So, let me know what you thought and how you liked meeting Isabelle's mom. I think it's nice to know that Isabelle's mom would've approved and that her and Jax would've gotten along just fine. **


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